


I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy)

by klowntatorship



Series: Cyberpunk fics [7]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28829982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klowntatorship/pseuds/klowntatorship
Summary: The dreams he had grew increasingly foreboding, each more graphic and haunting than the last. He would watch his death in real time, feel each synapse failing as death raised it’s scythe before it would fizzle into the unnerving blackness of sleep.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Male V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: Cyberpunk fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057706
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	I Love You (Prelude to Tragedy)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble from an ask on tumblr!! [Send me some angst!!!](https://klowntatorship.tumblr.com/post/640605117453877249/rothelp-miscellaneous-angst-starters-when-were)

It’s the sound of gunshots firing that tear V from the grips of sleep. They sound far too close, maybe next door? Perhaps the floor below. Too close for his liking but entirely expected within the borders of Night City. There was also the distinct possibility of it all being a fabrication of his cruel mind. The dreams he had grew increasingly foreboding, each more graphic and haunting than the last. He would watch his death in real time, feel each synapse failing as death raised it’s scythe before it would fizzle into the unnerving blackness of sleep. It was like some blackmarket snuff BD that he was the lone star in. 

Fingers curl into the cheap synthetic sheets below as he lets out a shaky exhale. He tries to remember those breathing techniques Misty had encouraged him to do. In through the nose for five and out through the mouth for five. Rinse and repeat as needed. It does little to ease the looming fear that weighs on his chest like an anvil. He can’t shake the feeling of dread that curls in the pit of his belly that makes his skin clammy and makes his mind race. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been dreaming about. The only remnants were the chill in his bones contrasted by the warm sweat that rolled down the side of his temple. 

The bed shifts, and he feels the ghost of touch trailing over his chest. A question hangs in the air ‘did you have another nightmare?’ He nods his head slowly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. V was sure that Johnny could feel the dread that cascaded off of him, perhaps even shared the fears to an extent. Their emotional connectivity blurring as time marched on where one’s emotions and thoughts became the others. The idea of that alone sent a chill over his body. 

“Shh it’s okay, it was just a dream” Johnny’s voice cuts through the air like a hot knife through butter. His voice is uncharacteristically gentle, like the warm tide of a beach washing over him and cleansing V’s addled mind of any dread. There’s no mocking to his tone, no making fun of V for what his mind had conjured, only a steady reassurance that even for this moment, he was alive and well. 

V turns in the bed, turning onto his side into the welcoming embrace of Johnny’s arms. It was rather comical to be finding solace in a figment of his mind, in the very thing that was slowly draining his life from him. A firm hand comes to rub slow circles over his back, the simple act tethering him back into reality. There’s a tenderness to the touch, something more to it that’s left unspoken but brought into this world through action. 

“I’m fucking scared, Johnny.” V admits with bated breath, burying his face in the crock of Johnny’s neck. He breathes deeply, trying to match the rise and fall of his chest with Johnny’s.

“I know,” Johnny murmurs, his grip on V tightening momentarily. A slip in that pacifying façade he held, a small admission that the fear V felt was mutual. “S’going to be okay, I won’t let anything happen.”

A conversation from earlier hangs in V’s mind, the words ‘ _when the time comes, it’ll be my life for yours_ ’ playing in his head like a broken record. The words bring him no comfort; instead, they raise another army of dark thoughts tainted with grief and bitter loneliness to cloud his mind and add to the growing turmoil. He inhales deeply, breaths in the smell of Johnny that his mind creates. The aftershave, cigarettes, and cologne that fills his senses make him hum as it grounds him makes the fear shrivel into something manageable. It will grow again, the fear will be back with a vengeance, but in these moments of twilight where it’s just Johnny and him, those fears don’t matter all that much. For once in V’s damn miserable life, he doesn’t feel so fucking alone. 


End file.
